


Don't Leave

by bittybae (piscespride)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5135738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piscespride/pseuds/bittybae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After he finished with the kitchen, Boyd made his way to the bathroom and stripped down, grabbing extra clothes from a dresser Stiles kept for him in their- in his room. It’s not theirs anymore. His hands smoothed over the wobbly thing, toying with the loose knobs and noticing just how hard it was to open the second to last drawer. He’d fix it for Stiles, after his shower. He’d fix it all for Stiles. He’d fix Stiles’ house, the one he bought for dirt cheap because everything was so fucked up with it, but it was Stiles’ dream home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Leave

“You know what? _Fuck you_ , Boyd. I’m done with this.”

 

The shout was accompanied by a slamming door, and the house was filled with silence after that. Boyd couldn’t look anywhere but the door Stiles had just walked through, leaving behind an air of finality. He isn’t sure what he should be doing now, as he stood in the hallway, blinking at a blank space. What does one do after their boyfriend - their _mate_ \- ends a two year relationship and storms out from their own home? Boyd doesn’t even live here, this is Stiles’ house.

 

Boyd sits heavily in the small stool Stiles set by the door. Lydia had made him do it so she wouldn’t have to crouch to put her heels back on every time she came over. He’s never been more thankful in this moment, as he leans back against the wall. Stiles and he were no more, his heart stayed steady. He was truly done with Boyd.

 

“Only a matter of time, I suppose,” Boyd laughed, but it was an empty, hollow sound. “It just happened later rather than sooner. Would it have hurt less, if it was sooner?” Boyd mused to himself, blinking down at the hardwood floors. They were an ugly color, like purple and brown streaked together. Who even made these floors anyway?

 

He looked to the side, at the entrance to the kitchen. Shattered glass littered the floor, sparkling under the shitty lights. It reminded him of the ring sitting on his bedside table back at his apartment. With a smile, Boyd pushed up from his spot and  into the kitchen, easily maneuvering around the glass and spilled food to grab the broom and dustpan. Stiles wouldn’t notice the mess, would probably walk right through it with his socks on and hurt himself, and no one would be there to help him. Boyd could see a forgotten cell phone on the kitchen counter, and after patting down his jeans, concluded Stiles must’ve left his in there in the heat of the fight.

 

Boyd ignored it and started cleaning, separating the mess the best he could and cleaning it up one at a time. He threw the food away immediately, and carefully put all the broken glass he could find onto a paper towel, which he threw into a ziplock baggie, and then into the trash. He went over the floor with a vacuum after wiping down the stickiness left over from the food, sucking up all the leftover glass and emptying that for Stiles, putting the vacuum back where Stiles had it with an odd sort of gentleness he never knew existed beyond Stiles’ skin.

 

After he finished with the kitchen, Boyd made his way to the bathroom and stripped down, grabbing extra clothes from a dresser Stiles kept for him in their- in his room. It’s not theirs anymore. His hands smoothed over the wobbly thing, toying with the loose knobs and noticing just how hard it was to open the second to last drawer. He’d fix it for Stiles, after his shower. He’d fix it all for Stiles. He’d fix Stiles’ house, the one he bought for dirt cheap because everything was so fucked up with it, but it was Stiles’ dream home. Boyd turned around and left the room, stepping into the steamy shower and rinsing off what felt like the earlier fight.

 

He doesn’t even remember what it was about, now. Just that it was over something so stupid, something that really didn’t even matter. But it had blown back, and they had both said things they didn’t mean, hit where it would hurt the most

 

* * *

 

_“You’re nothing more than a fucking animal! You can’t even save one of your own, what does that say about you?” Stiles screamed, face red and eyes burning with anger._

_“Me? It’s like death and misery follows you, wherever you go! You spread it like a disease! Your mother, Scott’s father!”_

_“You let Erica die!”_

_“You tried to kill Scott!”_

* * *

 

Boyd was thrust back into reality as he was hit with a blast of cold water. He flinched back against the tiled wall, claws flicking out and a murderous growl tearing from his throat. He took in a shuddered breath, forcing the shift back. Derek said he’d been one of the best out of controlling his shift, he doesn’t want to disappoint his Alpha by not even being able to pull this back.

 

It took Boyd ten more minutes of standing under the freezing water before he was able to stumble out human. He dried off haphazardly and tugged his clothes on and leaving the house barefoot, heading to the shed outside. He was digging around for the tools he’d need to fix the house, give Stiles just what he’d always wanted. He was so focused on his task that he never heard Stiles walk back up the driveway, or hear him go in the house. He just pulled the toolbox from where it was buried under tarps Stiles wraps the jeep in after a fresh paint job.

 

He walks back into the house, straight into Stiles’ - and it pains him to not call it theirs, it burns him from the inside out - room and drops to his knees in front of the dresser, shaky hands pulling it apart. He’s just about to reach for the drawer, the one that sticks, when a cold hand curls over his shoulder. He knows those hands, knows them as well as his own, but he’s so terrified. Derek’s told him what happens when a mate leaves their wolf, how they go crazy, and Boyd didn’t think it happened this fast.

 

He has to hold back a sob when the other hand wraps around his own, clenching the drawer handle. It feels so real, but Stiles left him, walked out of their home, their den. It is theirs, it’s been theirs since Boyd started leaving his clothes here on purpose a year and a half ago so his scent would stay in the house.

 

“Vernon, let go of the handle.” deft fingers pry Boyd’s hand from the handle, now dented and misshapen. Boyd finally let himself look at Stiles, at the pink tinged nose and the red, swollen eyes. Stiles pulled Boyd away from the dresser and to the bed, uncovering the blankets just to bury himself and Boyd underneath them.

 

“You- your heart didn’t stutter. You said you were done with us.” Boyd whispered into the silence, voice watery and breaking. Tears leaked from his eyes and onto Stiles’ neck, where he was hiding. They were curled into each other, both crying on their lover, every inch of their bodies’ touching.

 

“I was done with the fighting, Boyd. All we’ve done is fight for the past week and a half. I just… I couldn’t stay in here after what I said to you.” Amber eyes pulled back to stare at Boyd, welling up with tears once again. “I am so sorry Vern. So sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that, I knew that as soon as I mentioned Erica.”

 

Boyd shook his head, scrunching his eyes shut as he tried to speak without full on sobbing. “I- I shouldn’t have either, you-” He shuddered at the press of half chapped, half wet lips on his cheek, “you trusted me with all of that, God, I’m sorry too. Please don’t leave again, please. I don’t think I could do it again. Fuck, don’t ever leave me again Stiles. I don’t care if you’re pissed off, I don’t care if you call me every name in the book just _don’t leave me_.” Boyd broke, sobbing into Stiles’ neck. It was okay, because Stiles was too.

 

* * *

 

 

They fell asleep like that, tears drying on their faces and clutching each other in their sleep. In the morning, they’ll be hesitant with each other. Boyd will want nothing more than to cling to Stiles like a baby, and Stiles will wish the whole night never happened. They’ll be okay again, they just aren’t sure when.

 

 


End file.
